Melting Ice
by Ashley Sky
Summary: (This story occurs after the Fall of Five) After the loss of Eight, Six, Nine, and John are desperate to regroup after being split up, and Ella is struggling by herself in enemy territory. Before they can find each other again and save Ella, however, Marina starts receiving mysterious messages in her dreams that suggest the impossible. Dare she hope?
1. Our Loss

**Author's Note: Thanks for opening up my story! I hope you enjoy it!**

Marina's point of view:

I hear footsteps cross the old motel room, and am too weak to even lift my head. All my energy has been sapped from me. I feel a hand on my shoulder and hear the sofa springs creak and moan as Six sinks onto the sofa next to me.

"Marina..." Six begins, and sighs. "I'm sorry," she decides to say, but I can't find it in my heart to respond. Another tear leaks out from beneath my eyelids and sinks into the old sofa. Our latest escape has been a blur, and I'm not even sure what I had done or seen. I feel like I'm in a daze, without consciously knowing what's going on, with just one clear picture in my mind - Five stabbing Eight. I can see Eight's deep green eyes, and the clean pierce that left a gaping hole in Eight's chest, and in my heart.

He's still on my mind constantly. Eight, who put others' lives before his. Eight, who tried so hard everyday just to make us laugh. Eight, who is now gone forever, killed by his own kind.

He didn't deserve this.

Nine appears in the doorway. Six glares at him, and I can feel the intensity of it even though I'm not the victim. Nine saunters in and sits in the chair nearest to the door while crossing his arms. I can tell that both Six and I are resisting the urge to whack him with the coffee table that separates us with our telekinesis.

"I-," Nine starts, lowering his arms to his sides. Six raises her eyebrows coldly and puts her arm across my shoulders, and I'm glad for the comfort. "I know it was my fault."

He should know, the jerk. If only he hadn't added that last comment that set Five off. Nine sighed. "And I'm sorry," he adds. I look up. Nine was apologizing? I'm shocked at what I see.

A look of anguish crosses Nine's face as we meet eyes, and I realize I had never seen him like this before. He had always been the calm and confident one, but now he was finally peeling off his cover to reveal the Nine that I hadn't really noticed before, the one who cared. I've almost forgotten that I'm not the only one who cared about Eight, that his death is not only my loss.

Nine sighs again. "I'm really sorry," he repeats. "I know I can be really stupid sometimes. Well, worse than that." He almost grins, but shakes his head instead. A silence ensues, until he clears his throat and starts again. "We can't stay here forever. We need to go back to Chicago and meet up with the others."

"Nine," Six sighs. "For once, why don't we rest and wait until morning first."

Nine hesitates, then nods. "This once." And I knew why - it was for Eight.

I spread out on the sofa, not expecting to fall asleep the second my head hits the sofa cushion, but I do.

I see the little island from a distance, and I know that it's the one. A block of ice glints, the centerpiece of a small frozen wasteland that I had created. As I near, I see a lone figure kneeling in front of the ice block which holds Eight. It's Five, still in his torn shirt from the battle that had just occurred. His palms are pressed up against the ice, desperately trying to melt it, his fingers beginning to turn blue at the tips. Even though it's below freezing, I barely even feel numb. When I finally stop zooming in, I find myself kneeling next to him, taking in the sight of Eight.

His eyes are closed, as if he's merely in a deep sleep. His curly hair swirls around him, and the strong arms that used to find their way around me back in Chicago are laid, unmoving, at his sides. I felt new tears brimming and spilling out, falling onto the transparent ice and freezing there. I think of the days he promised me after the war, and realize that's not possible anymore. Because... I force myself to say it. Because he's never coming back.

I focus on the features of his face, wishing I could talk to him one last time. _Eight._ I think. _I miss you already_. I clench my fists as my vision again gets blurry with tears. Why did this have to happen to him?

Oddly enough, I don't see any wounds on Eight. He looks perfectly healthy, like the time I first saw him in India. When I finally break my eyes away from him, I hear Five next to me mumbling something over and over, and resist the urge to stab him with something, with anything. I will an icicle to form in my hands, but my legacy doesn't cooperate.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this, Eight. I didn't mean to kill you. You weren't supposed to get hurt. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Eight," Five mumbles.

I feel a twinge of sympathy, but the rest of me shoves it to the back of my mind as I whisper harshly, "It was all your fault."

Startled, Five whips around his head to see me. The effect is immediate. His face morphs into one of terror and one of his hands, the one that usually holds the rubber and metal ball, starts fidgeting. I feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction upon seeing the eyepatch slanted across his face, but I'm still surprised at his reaction. I never thought that I could cause fear before.

Five bites his lip and doesn't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, Marina. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

I narrow my eyes coldly. "It's already too late to be sorry, you traitor," I spat. The heat from my words leaves a fine, swirling puff of white in the air. His eyes widen further, and he seems to shrink into himself, speechless. I soften for a moment, seeing him as a child, with his Cepan ill and dying. As if realizing this, Five seizes the chance to revive his vocal cords.

"Save him, Marina!" Five cries desperately.

I shake my head. "I can't," I mumble. My frustration at my helplessness grows.

"Yes, you can. The Mogadorians did it to One before. You can do it for Eight."

I narrow my eyes. One was brought back to life? I can't tell if he's lying or not. "We aren't meant to revive the dead. It isn't possible!"

"It is," he replies. "One was brought back. Her body was taken to a laboratory and her memories were rescued. The scientist working there even claims that a part of her lived on inside a test subject."

I feel a wave of nausea and disgust at his suggestion. What kind of sick experiment was that? We should be honoring Eight, not experimenting on him, like the Mogs. "No," I choke out. There's no way I would do that to Eight.

"This is different," he says desperately, pleading with me now, because he can see the disgust imprinted on my face. "That's why the fourth scar on your ankle is so faint. You can save him." I glare at him until I realize he's sincere.

"I'll make sure no Mogadorians come by for a week. I promise," he adds meekly. I can't believe he's doing this. What is he doing this for?

It's a trap, my mind immediately answers. Don't trust him. But I've already moved on, thinking about how to get back to John, Ella, and Sam, and how I'll manage to save him. To save Eight. My mind can't really wrap around the idea just yet, though I've thought it hopelessly at least a thousand times since we lost him. I nod slowly towards Five, beginning to let my guard down.

"Oh, and my offer still stands. You still have time to join the winning side," Five adds tentatively. He knows immediately that this was a wrong move, and I can see it in his face. I straighten up and glare at him, and feel my anger begin to boil again.

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading my first chapter! Please please review! It would be great if any of you could point out my mistakes and weak points, since I'm still new to this. It would help a lot! Thanks for reading!**

**Upcoming: Six's point of view!**


	2. No Escape

**Author's Note: Thanks for staying with me! I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)**

Six's point of view:

"Marina!" I whisper. No response. "Marina!" I yell, even though I know it'll wake up Nine. Still no response. Marina continues jerking, her face now a bit pale. I shake her shoulder, worrying if Ella had passed on the coma to her telepathically. "MARINA!" I yell. As soon as her eyes snap open, I breathe a sigh of relief. Marina groans and rubs at her eyes. It's as if she didn't get any rest at all.

"Five," she whispers, struggling to push herself up. My confusion must have shown on my face, because she shakes her head and continues.

"I saw him in a dream," she says. "He said we could save Eight. He said no Mogs would be near in the next week so that we could get to him."

I frown. "It's a trap," is my immediate reply. Marina nods. "We can't go back, Marina. We-" I choke on my words. "He's dead. We can't save him." But even as I say this, I can see the look on Marina's face. She's already hoping.

I hear a faint buzzing noise in my head.

_Six._

_Ella?_ I think back to her. I hope it's Ella.

_Six._

Her voice is growing meeker. I furrow my brows in concentration and send another message out to her. Marina is watching me, with her chin propped up in her hands and her eyelids weighed down with exhaustion.

_Ella, Eight's gone._

_I know. We were attacked._

I bite my lip. I know it was Five who planned this all out. I feel a searing hatred for him. To Marina, I say,"It's Ella."

I focus my concentration on Ella again. _Where are you right now?_

_I don't know._

Suddenly, my visions starts blurring. Parts of the room break apart until I see only darkness. As soon as the darkness envelops me, however, a picture sputters to life in front of my eyes.

A long hall stretches out to my right. Its walls are decorated lavishly with tapestries and its tiles painted gold and red. In the tapestry nearest to me, I see a girl with long blonde hair being stabbed by a Mog. With a wrenching pain, I realize that this must be Number One. As I peer farther down the hall, I see others. Number Two. Number Three. I feel disgust for the war-thirsty Mogs, and their way of honoring their battles. The fourth tapestry brings up bile from the back of my throat. I clench my fists in frustration and revulsion. The picture depicts Five shoving a knife through Eight. As if I don't see that scene enough already. As if I don't see that image play across my vision every time I close my eyes.

A steady humming noise comes from behind me. I've been so engrossed in the tapestries that I haven't noticed it yet. I turn around and see a crouching girl in front of an exquisitely decorated throne. It's Ella, but I don't think she can see me. I shout towards her, but she doesn't even lift her head. Ella is surrounded by a glowing, dome-shaped force field, projected by a single machine from the ceiling, and I wonder if it's the same one that blasted John back from the Mog base from what felt like so long ago.

The throne is centered in the middle of the room, raised from the floor. Ella is dressed in a flowing white dress with a ruffled trimming resting around her ankles, and is sitting on top of the golden pedestals that lead up to the throne. The throne seems far too small for Setrakus Ra. Is it for Ella?

She seems well cared-for, her hair neatly combed and braided, but I knew this must be a prison for her. A menacing jail cell that she can't escape. A whisper forces its way into my head, a last plea from Ella just as she tilts her head up with a haunted look in her eyes.

_Help me._

**Author's Note: Wow I actually have people reading this! :) Please review so I can know how you feel about my writing! Thanks! I promise the next chapter'll have lots of action :)**


	3. Abduction

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading on! I thought this was pretty much assumed, but just in case, I don't own the Lorien Legacies or any of the characters!**

**Here's Chapter 3!**

Sam's Point of View:

I'm awakened by a shuffling sound next to me. I open my eyes a sliver, on high alert, until I realize that it's just Adam. Letting out a breath I didn't even know I was holding, I sit up. I cough in the dust and immediately look to my left. Where did my father go?

"Dad?" I say frantically, standing up, my heart already starting to pound.

"I'm here, Sam, in the other room," he replies. I feel my body sag with relief. I almost thought that he didn't survive yesterday, and that maybe John really didn't succeed in saving him. Maybe I'm becoming paranoid. I rub my hands together to warm them and enter the kitchen.

My father is waiting for me, and hands over my breakfast. I hear the near broken kitchen door creak open as John enters the room clutching the tablet.

"They've moved from Florida," John says shakily, handing the tablet to me. I glance at screen and locate the three stationary, flashing dots currently in Georgia. My eyes stare unblinkingly until I stop with a sudden realization. Wait. Only three?

"John, I think one's missing." I look up into his tired face. He looks like he's barely gotten any rest. He shakes his head hopelessly.

"I know, Sam. We're one less now." My heart clenches. Another lost Lorien.

"Who is it?" I ask, dreading the answer. I can't help but wonder if it is Six. I remembered when she pushed me away, telling me that this war couldn't be fought without casualties, but I never really thought that the first one to go would be her. My heart clenches, wondering if that was one of the last things she said to me. _She can protect herself,_ I force myself to think, but I can't help but also implore, _please, please don't let it be Six_.

"It's Eight." John lifts his ankle to show us the scar, and I feel horrible at once for my thoughts from a few seconds ago. Every Loric is too valuable to lose, and my relationship with Six shouldn't be the priority right now. But even as I think this, I feel immensely relieved. It's not Six, my mind keeps repeating to myself. Six is alive. I can't look at John because I feel so selfish, until the blow hits me. _It's Eight? _

Sarah bites her lip and leans her head onto John's shoulder. Her eyelids lower and she mutters something under her breath, something only John can hear. Just as he's about to reply, I hear a smash, and the tinkling of broken glass. I turn around and see a Kraul taking out what's remaining of the kitchen window with its claws, baring its crooked teeth at us.

Sarah screams and ducks as the glass shards pierce her. My dad's squinting outside until I realize that he doesn't have his glasses on yet. I dash to our bedroom and grab a gun along with my dad's glasses, and arrive just in time to see another Kraul jump inside. Shoving the glasses at my dad, I point my gun out the window in case any other Mogs or monsters decide to barge in while John is occupied.

John lights his hands on fire and deftly forms two fireballs, lobbing one at each Kraul. Each one disintegrates immediately. John stands still for a moment while everyone stays eerily silent. Sarah raises an eyebrow with her gun still pointed in front of her.

"So that's all?"

Just as the last word slips from her lips, the front door breaks down. Mogs swarm into the cramped space, aiming their guns at us. As they all shoot in unison, John holds out his hands to stop their bullets and flings them back. I point at the one nearest to my father and shoot it just after it disintegrates. Surprised, I look over at my grinning father, with a gun still smoking in his hand.

"I'm glad I can still help with something," he chuckles, but we don't get any time to celebrate. The second Mog lumbers forth just as John appears at my left and stops his bullet from piercing me. Without another word, he continues to burn down the Mogadorians.

One of his flames misses a Mogadorian and ignites the old, stained sofa. I cough in the pungent smoke as John shakes his head, frustrated. "The house going to burn down. We need to get out."

I stare at the doorway from which Mogs were still streaming in from. Sarah is slowing picking them off one by one, but we'll run out of bullets eventually. One of the Mogs stares directly at me, no longer trying to hide his pale face as he raises his weapon. Instinctively, I aim and fire, and watch as he crumples into dust.

"Through the window," John shouts to us while forming another sphere of flames. He picks my dad up telekinetically and eases him through the window frame. The fire from his hands fly towards the next group of Mogs. Sarah screams as a Mogadorian's cannon fire scrapes by her ankle. John flinches, but doesn't waste time in turning. I can tell the Mog is an officer of some sort. He came dressed fully in uniform with a gleaming sword tucked in his belt, but I can't really see much else in the confusion. To my right, I can see Adam furrowing his brows in concentration as he thrusts his hands out. The floor of the house cracks open down to the foundation between us and the advancing Mogadorians with a deafening rumble. His face is pale but calm as he aims at the tall Mog wielding the cannon with his borrowed gun and fires. As the Mog crumples to dust, I think I see a flash of recognition pass Adam's eyes. The Mog turns one last time to glare at Adam with a burning hatred. His lips form one word.

"Traitor." Adams eyes look glazed as he clenches the gun tighter, his lips pressed into a thin line. It's not until later that I realize that the moisture in his eyes was tears.

John spins around to make sure no one yet is severely hurt. "Go through the window. I'll be right there," he orders us, but I shake my head. I'm not leaving him. My gun only trembles slightly when I point it at one Mog after another until I hear an empty click. It's out. John grabs me, at the same time launching an enormous fireball that demolishes half of the remaining Mogs and also sets fire to the rest of wooden house.

Coughing, I feel myself being deposited outside onto the dry field outside the window. I hit the ground with a thump. "John!" I hear Sarah scream. Not a second later, he leaps out the window, the remaining shards of glass just barely scraping his legs. Cannon fire shoots out of the broken window, which John stops and throws back inside. Outside, I see three more silver ships landing, and one more hovering in the air. A Mog steps out of the first one and points his gun towards the house.

"Run!" John shouts, and I know what he's thinking. There's no way we'll be able to defeat all of them. Gasping for air in the dust and smoke, I turn and sprint towards the forest behind the fields, Adam right on my heels.

John continues to fight even as we run, and Sarah hands me a Mog gun she found. Even though I can't see much through all the smoke, I can tell that John's legacies really have gotten more powerful since our last battle, and feel a tiny spark of pride. I double over in coughs once I reach the forest, clutching my side, and turn back one last time to see the roof of the house collapse inwards, sending up sparks and dust. I hear the groan of a monster trapped inside as it burns to death.

My eyes widen. "The chests!" As if reading my mind, the chests shoot out of the side of the house, splintering the wall. John pulls them closer until they stop in front of us with a grinding crunch.

A flash of green passes by my right and Sarah lets out a yelp. The cloth covering her shoulder is quickly dampening with blood. I whip my head around to see about a group of Mogs advancing on us. My heartbeat quickens. There's no way to escape now. I yank my father up with one hand and Sarah's wrist with the other and pull them farther into the forest. Sarah cries out as a branch scrapes her wounded shoulder. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Adam thrusting his hands forward. As if connected to him somehow, the ground begins trembling. The trees in the earthquake's path slant and fall forward onto the Mogadorians. A giant puff of dust emerges from where they stood, and the glint of a sword hacks through a branch before falling for the last time. Adam smiles, but it looks pained. "Let's go."

"John," Sarah gasps, short of breath. "He's still back there."

My head swivels around to see John stand in the middle of the field, fighting an entire army by himself. His arm reaches out into the air as a tree uproots and smashes into a row of Mogs. He continues flinging trees and stacking them until they tower over the house. Breathing heavily, he forms the largest fireball I've ever seen him create and lobs it on top. Immediately, the wood catches on fire. Flames climb down from the top and spread over the field, eagerly licking up the dried grass. Within a minute, the fire consumes at least half of the field, and I can't see John through the smoke. I tilt my head to see the flames advance steadily towards silver ships on the other side until they grab on and climb inside. There's no way the Mogs are using those again.

Sarah coughs. "We have to help him!" I nod and lift my gun, but I can't find a target anymore in the chaos. The smoke stings my eyes and squeezes my chest.

I see another silver ship hovering in the distance zoom over with surprising speed. I aim my gun and fire at it, but the bullets merely make tiny dents in the shiny material. A ladder lowers from it, and a mog nimbly climbs down and reaches into the flames. I aim my gun again and shoot. A howl pierces our ears as the Mog falls off the ladder into the flames, clutching at his side. Someone from inside the ship shoots a glowing bullet into the field and leans down to yank something up, presumably the other soldier. An object rises out of the fire, pulled up by the Mog. I pose my gun to shoot and squint through the smoke. As the person dangles upside-down by the ankle, I realize that, in fact, it isn't the other soldier.

It's John. He wobbles over the flames until a final yank brings him into the ship.

"NO!" I scream, snapping out of my daze and shooting at last, and watching as the bullets pinged harmlessly off of the closed opening hatch. Adam and Sarah thrust their guns out also, to no avail.

"John!" Sarah screams, lurching forward and dropping her gun. Her eyes pool with tears. The wound on her arm continues to bleed, but she doesn't seem to notice. Adam shakes his head, lowering his gun.

"We won't be able to get him back. Not now," he mutters. I shake my head.

"I'm never leaving him behind!" I yell towards him.

Adam gestures to Sarah. "She's hurt. We need to get her help." I feel split into two halves. One side wants to save John, and the other wants to help Sarah. My father put his hand on my shoulder.

"We have to go, son." He wheezes with the effort of talking. I feel overwhelmed. I wasn't meant to make decisions like this. I wasn't meant to be a leader. For a second, I stare unmovingly at the silver ship now rising into the sky until my more practical side wins out.

"Let's go," I tell them, and beckon them deeper into the woods. I grab two trunks and tuck them under my arms. As my dad reaches for the other one, Adam picks Sarah up and runs after me. By the time we get to the other side, I'm panting like a dog and my dad looks like he's going to collapse any minute.

Just as I'm appreciating the loss of any Mogadorians in our near vicinity, I hear sirens wailing from a distance. I catch my breath before telling my dad, "I think we can take one of these cars." In front of us, two old, dusty cars are parked along the sidewalk. My dad stumbles forward and jimmies the lock open on one of them. I'm surprised that it opens so easily until I see the interior of the car. Everything looks like it had been abandoned for a decade after being bashed repeatedly with a baseball bat, but I couldn't care less.

"Give me a second," my dad wheezes. The sirens got closer and closer until I had to fight the urge to slam my palms onto my ears. The rumble of a car engine fights its way past the wails of the siren as the car reluctantly complies to my dad's wishes. I slide into shotgun as Adam gets into the back and lays Sarah down across the three seats.

I see flashes of red light dance across my vision, and catch a firetruck coming around the block out of the corner of my eyes.

"GO!" I yell, and my dad hits the gas. We shoot forward, careening, and turn the next corner. I strain my neck in time to see a group firemen step out of the truck with a hose. Turning back around, I shake my head as I realize the hopelessness of our situation. If Six, Marina, and Nine could have, I'm sure they would have gone to Chicago to look for us by now. Seeing their unmoving dots on the tablet in Georgia makes me believe that they must be in such a bad condition that they can't travel. I feel panic and distress seize me.

We lost John. We're only a group of humans now, plus a Mogadorian. How are we supposed to fight this war by ourselves?

**A/N: Thanks for reading again! Wow, this was my longest chapter yet! If you have any tips for writing action, they would be much appreciated! I might not update for a while because of school.**

**Special thanks to Meerkat78 and IwishIcouldbeNumberFive for reviewing, and to Meerkat78 for favoriting and following!**


	4. My Fault

**A/N: Sorry for not updating for so long! I'll have a longer note at the end, but for now, enjoy!**

Adam's Point of View:

I feel like I'm dreaming, but I'm not. Sitting in the back of a lurching car for hours gives me a lot of time to think things over. Maybe too much time. Sarah's asleep, too tired to stay awake after the Mogs' ambush. I wish I could fall asleep that easily and experience the relief of losing consciousness.

Scenes keep flashing across my vision. The lunging Kraul. The splintering window. And then chaos. I remember shooting blindly, rejoicing every time my gun made its mark, but at the same time, feeling the successes gradually carve out a deep, hollow hole inside of me.

I felt One's legacy inside me surge as I saw him, and I felt my anger taking over. It pounded through my soul and trembled across the floor, shoving down the Mogs in front of me. I didn't stop. My hand raised and my finger pulled the trigger, and I didn't stop.

Until it was done. Until he was gone.

The general. My father.

I don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling. Before now, when I dared imagine this moment, I saw myself rejoicing, content and satisfied with my revenge. But now?

My ears still hear phantom ringing caused by the blast that jerked my arm backwards, the one that shot the bullet that pierced through his fancy, useless uniform. A sick, horrible feeling claws at my chest.

Should I have been scared of him?

I wasn't.

Maybe I should have saved him.

But I know he wouldn't do the same for me.

I know I never was his favorite son. I know he didn't even regard me as one after I stopped believing in his cause. My mother was disgusted with me after he told her the truth. My whole family was. I don't want to go back, anyway. But now, I know that I can't. It's impossible. It's time to forget the fact that I lived with them before, that I had been one of them before...before I was changed. But if I was changed, why couldn't they be? I killed them mercilessly. The content feeling I had earlier from helping my friends is now gone, leaving me with the truth of what I had done. I was no different from them, until One came along. She changed my life in exchange for her own.

That did it. I can't hold it back any longer.

I can't believe I'm crying. A silent tear streaks across my face. Day has already turned into night, and I'm thankful for the darkness to conceal my face while I think my bitter thoughts. I was never accepted into my family or the Mogadorian society, was I? I was never talented enough for them. My father had always looked down on me with scorn, and so did the other officers. The best I could hope for was possibly becoming a custodian, to clean the worst jail cells. The ones with the prisoners of war, the one Sam was trapped in. Only the lowest of the low go there. I know I'm never going to feel included or appreciated at my old home.

Now? I guess I have Malcolm and his son Sam. They've been very welcoming, not caring about my race or where I came from, only the fact that I'm here now, and that I'm on their side, but they can't replace One. I won't ever be able to forget the expression on John's face when I first saw him, though, with the disgust winding itself into his features. I knew the expression too well. It was the same one that greeted me every time I met my father's eyes.

"Adam?" Malcolm says from the front. Sam starts turning around.

Shoot. I use my sleeve to swipe at my eye and clear my throat. "Yes?" I grunt.

"Are you okay back there?"

"Yes," I reply, fidgeting with my sleeve. "Sarah's fine, too, but we might need to hurry." The car grinds over a slight rise in the road, and I steady the chests next to me to keep them from toppling over. Sam told me there's something called a healing stone inside them that would solve all our problems, but we can't access them without the Garde. Sam catches sight of Sarah and winces.

"Don't worry, I think there's another city up ahead. We'll use the fake IDs to get Sarah to a doctor," Malcolm says. If only John were around, then he could heal her. But I couldn't save him and help the cause that One prepared me for, even though I was right there when it happened, standing within a couple yards. The thought hit me with the same power as before. Even with my new legacy, I couldn't make a difference, I couldn't prevent what happened to John. It was my fault that he was captured, the effect of my futile attempts to follow through with my promises to One.

_I'm sorry, One. I failed you_.

I imagine One's voice in my head, chiding me for blaming myself, but her made-up voice can't stitch up my torn feelings.

_We'll find him_, I tell her silently, wishing she could hear. We have to. We have to win this war. I hear a slight buzzing sound as my eyes droop, but my tired brain doesn't register it. My father's face looms up in front of me as I close my eyes, lulled to sleep by the sways of the car. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are stretched taut. He narrows his eyes, and he directs his thoughts towards me with a burning, murderous look. Even though I know that it's not real and only a figment of my imagination, I shudder inside. He opens his mouth, and a harsh whisper slithers out of his lips.

_You will pay._

**A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! I hope I made Adam's point of view realistic. He's not going to be so emotional later, I promise. Unless you guys like him like this? Please tell me what you think :) Sorry if this was a boring chapter/too short of a chapter for you! I've been super busy with school lately, but I'll write more often now! Hopefully! If you review! I promise the next chapter'll be more interesting :)**

**Special thanks to I'm Number Eleven, Marina3Eight, and Paragon Eight for their encouragement! And thank you, Meerkat 78, for being supportive and amazing!**

**I can't believe it! The next book's title is the Fate of Ten! There's a book for 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, and 10 now. Can you see which number we're missing? I shouldn't get my hopes up, though...**


	5. Grow Up

**A/N: Hi! I'm so sorry for not updating for so long and not warning everyone beforehand!**

**I just realized it would be really helpful if I gave a recap of what happened before, because it's been a while!**

**Chapter 1: Marina receives a message from Five in which he tells her that Eight can be saved.**

**Chapter 2: Ella sends Six a telepathic message, asking for help because she has been kidnapped.**

**Chapter 3: Sam, Sarah, Malcolm, and Adam are attacked again, and John is abducted.**

**Chapter 4: Adam wonders whether or not he really can help the Loric cause, and reflects on his father's death.**

**By the way, this chapter occurs at the same time as the first chapter, but at a different place and in a different character's point of view. Enjoy!**

Ella's Point of View:

"It's the Loric prisoner." I hear someone's raspy voice whisper with glee as I arise from my unconsciousness.

My hands twitch, but cold, metal handcuffs and another pair of shackles on my ankles prevent me from using either of them. My head feels foggy, and my toes are frozen. I flinch when the dull thumps of heavy boots from across the room reach my ears. I force my eyes open, which immediately dart to the face of the person who spoke. He's a Mog. Uncertainty flashes behind his dark eyes before he schools his features to an icy indifference.

"Get up," he commands, scraping the cane against the floor. I wince at the high-pitched screech it makes against the stone. My body groans in protest as I push myself up against the wall without fully allowing my brain to register my actions yet. My throat scratches itself in its thirst. Where am I? How long have I been out? An hour? A few days?

The realization hits me quickly like a blow dealt from a blunt, wooden bat. I've been kidnapped! I try to suppress it, but my fear creeps up and shakes me until I start trembling. My heartbeat quickens and my breath grows shallow. Didn't Setrakus Ra promise me in my dreams that this would happen? My hoarse throat whispers for Marina, but the Mog in front of me just smirks.

"Your weak Loric allies aren't here to protect you this time," he taunts as I ball my hands into fists. At least I know now that the rest of them are safe. A Mog steps forward with a blindfold ready in his hands, taking advantage of my disorientation. Shaking the remaining sleepiness off, I jump up and back away. I'm not in Chicago with my friends anymore.

This is enemy territory.

I can barely see in this dark room, with its walls slanted upwards towards the sagging ceiling. Crates and tall boxes are stacked around me, some of them with "handle with care" stamped on the sides. Am I in a Mog ship? I blink my eyes and realize that I'm surrounded by five Mogs. They look uncertain as to how to proceed now that I've woken up, their eyes constantly darting towards the Mog with the cane, whom I now label as their leader. They would be easy pickings, if only another Garde was here with me. But I'm alone, aren't I? _I have no chance._ I shake my head a little to clear my pessimistic thoughts. _Grow up, Ella,_ I tell myself. I need to at least try.

"Stop," I try to say fiercely before they can step closer. I thrust out my hand in front of me, palm forward. A few of them flinch, but the one with the cane only laughs.

"Number Ten," he says, chuckling. "It would be a miracle if you had any useful legacies right now." _I'm not Number Ten_, my mind whispers furiously at him. His eyes widen in surprise as I accidentally transmit the message to him by mistake, but he's not the only one startled by the other's comments. Did Five tell him about me?

Rage starts burning from inside my chest at the thought of Five, and I try to focus on thoughts of Marina and Nine instead. Marina would be strong enough to escape, no matter how dire the situation. And Nine? I almost smile at the thought. He would never let a couple of Mogs cornering him escape alive.

I know I have to try. I call up my courage by imagining them next to me, and turn towards the nearest Mog while recalling Nine's words.

_Duck and aim their side, because they have the advantage of height. If you can get them to fall over, you'll have the advantage._

My hatred for Five and the memories of my friends push me past acting like the nervous, shy, 12-year-old that I normally am. I slip out of my oversized manacles easily and hear them clanging to the floor. I lift my feet out of their bindings and grin just a little after seeing the astonished faces of the Mogs. I feel almost like Nine for a second. His attitude must have rubbed off on me.

I focus and launch myself at the nearest enemy with my fists clenched. I'm almost tempted to shout, "For Lorien!" The prickling needles inside my right foot which has fallen asleep make me hobble a little, but I ignore it.

The soldier's eyes widen, surprised at my daring charge. I use his surprise against him, ducking his punch that was too slow and throwing my fist into his side. He grunts and winces in time for me to forcefully kick the backs of his knees, causing him to fall backwards with a thud. I spare a second to see his eyelids close slightly so that I can only see the whites of his eyes. I lift my head up again, and not a moment too late. The Mog wielding the cane rushes towards us, overcoming his surprise, followed quickly by the three other Mogs.

Powered by adrenaline, I use the only Legacy I've ever mastered to shrink into a 6-year old and duck past the Mogs' legs. The Mog nearest to me reaches out for my flying hair, but his hand just barely grazes it as I dart past. He leans heavily on his right foot as he whirls around, and I notice that the left one is in some sort of a cast. That must be what his cane is for. I see the said wooden pole inches from my head, and grasp it tightly with both hands. I twist the cane out of his grasp and bring it down upon him, changing back into a 12-year old in the middle of the swing. It crashes down upon his shoulder, and I wince slightly as his knees give way. He falls down on top of the other Mog, and I jab the cane at his throat. The Mog coughs, trying to breathe, struggling to shove the cane away.

As I fight to hold the cane in place and turn to the other Mog soldiers at the same time, I hear a click next to my ear. My eyes swivel to the left and see a gun an inch from my forehead.

"Put the cane down," the Mog says threateningly. They must have found out that I don't have telekinesis. Nine would never let that get in his way. In one fluid movement, I whirl the cane towards his face, smacking the gun out of his hand and scraping his cheek. I hear the gun clatter hollowly onto the ground as I aim a quick kick at his side. The attack causes him to lean over, wheezing. My eyes widen, stunned at how much I've improved, but it's too early to celebrate now.

I pivot to my right and flinch when I see only the hollow interior of a gun. Behind it is one of the last two standing Mogs. The pistol is so close that it's hard to focus on its shiny, smooth texture. I see a green light growing brighter and brighter deep inside the metal cylinder, and I know I'm too late to block the bullet. As I swing the wooden cane for the last time anyway, I think of the remaining Loric. They will find a way to punish these Mogs for the destruction they waged upon my planet.

Hatred flashes in my eyes as I focus past the gun to the eyes of the Mog wielding it with a cold determination. My heart thumps wildly in my chest, protesting my imminent death, but I hold the glare and continue to suppress my fear. I know that I will never stoop so low as to beg for my life.

My last breath of air leaves my lungs. My heart beats out the final pulse to its rhythm.

I hear a blast and see a flash of green light, and then there is only darkness.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'll be updating really slowly, and I'm really sorry for that! I blame it on my world geography teacher and all my homework! **

**I hope you all enjoyed Ella growing up a little! Sorry if you're still disappointed at the length of the chapter! **

**I made a poll on my profile, so I hope you all can take the time to participate in it. It's to find out what readers most want to see in this fanfic, so I can morph the plot to better suit everyone's interests. :) Also, was the summary in the beginning helpful? Should I continue to add that?**

**Happy Valentines' Day, everyone! **

**To those of you who are like me: Don't feel alone! Your Eight will eventually find you! ;) **

**Also to those of you who are like me: Who needs anyone else when one has crazy, book-loving friends and amazing readers?**

**Special thanks to:**

**Meerkat78 (You're absolutely amazing!)**

**Paragon Eight (Your review was so sweet!)**

**I'm Number Eleven (Thanks for the encouragement!)**

**Marina3Eight (You have no idea how happy you made me!)**


	6. Still Alive

**A/N: Hi, everyone! I'm so so sorry for not updating in forever. There'll be a longer note at the end. For now, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Ella's Point of View:

I wake up shivering on cold tile. I feel too weak to lift my lead-filled limbs, which are bent around me at an awkward angle.

A set of footsteps echoes across the walls, getting louder and louder before halting in front of me. I shiver as I feel icy fingers brush across my forehead as my blindfold is removed. One glance around me makes me realize that everything's real, and that I'm not in a dream...and that I'm not...dead?

My head threatens to break open from a combination of nausea and headaches, and my heart begins to quicken its pace. I'm surprised when I notice that no new handcuffs have been added onto my wrists. I'm only handicapped by a pair on my ankles. Unfortunately, the new pair is now my size.

My eyes adjust to the dim lighting and latch onto a small, pale hand holding a cup in front of me. I nearly jump when I see it. I want to scream, "Get away from me!" but all that comes out is a moan.

My eyes fly up until I see a face. A female face, with wide eyes and slightly flushed cheeks that contrast starkly with her milk-white skin. Even though my brain still feels stuffed with cotton balls, this sight registers as abnormal. It's odd, but I've never seen a female Mog before. The cold glare I've been trying to hold falls away in my surprise.

The hand shoves forward a little, as if ordering me to take the cup. Trembling, my fingers reach out and curl around it, but I don't take a sip. As soon as my fist closes around the cup, the Mog lets go quickly, as if the cup is on fire. When I peer down at it, I hear the quick shuffling of feet as she steps backwards a few yards, as if I'm contagious. I push myself to a sitting position, wincing at the sharp pain in my neck while trying to conceal my agony from the Mog. I shove myself backwards away from her, lifting my arms up in a defensive position like Nine taught me. The sudden movement sends a tingling feeling through my sleeping feet.

I blink in the darkness, desperately trying to make out more of her face. She looks familiar, as if she came out of one of my dreams. Her raven black hair covers her bare shoulders, and I can see some of her bluish veins through her pale skin under the dim light. She's wearing a white, flowing dress embellished with gold lace at the hem that gives her an almost ghostly look. Shocked, I also notice that she looks about the same age as me. My fear subsides a little underneath my astonishment, and my arms lower just a tad. Who is she?

She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it a second later and stares not at me, but at the wall directly to my right. Maybe I could knock her out and run for it. I don't see anyone in my near vicinity, anyway.

I quickly glance over the room. It's a long, long hallway, lined with red and gold tile and decorated with hanging fabrics depicting murder scenes. I shudder as I see on one of them a girl with long, blond hair being stabbed by a Mog. The second tapestry paints the picture of a young girl with her eyes wide, and a Mog towering above her, getting ready for the fatal strike. I tear my eyes away, taking long, steady breaths to calm myself down. I can't look at the tapestries anymore.

This room doesn't seem like what a torture room or a prison cell would look like, but who knows what to expect from the Mogs? I'm sitting on a round, raised platform, large enough for me to lay across, with steps descending down onto the tiled floor on which the girl stands. As my eyes seek out the corners of the room, I see Mogs standing in the doorway, three of whom stand alert, their guns already pointed towards me and awaiting command. So much for my earlier escape plan.

The girl glances back at them, maybe to gain confidence. "Drink it," she tells me once she turns back around. I'm too tired and too thirsty to fight her command. I lift the bronze cup to my lips and gulp down the refreshing, cool water. My parched tongue eagerly licks the last drops until they are all gone. Once I finish the cup, my throat begs for more. I almost cave in and plead the girl for water, but, instead, I clench my fists. They're all Mogs, and they don't show mercy.

The girl stands still with a stone-cold glare. "There's going to be food later. The Great Leader told you to wait and be patient." she says, with her arms crossed. As she turns to leave, I wonder if the water was drugged. I don't feel woozy yet, at least. My eyes dart around the room again, finding no other exits.

"Wait," I stammer. My voice cracks from lack of use. "I-um," I start. I want to ask where I am, but she's never going to answer that. She twirls around halfway, her dress floating around her ankles. I need an excuse to leave this room.

"I-I need to use the bathroom," I mutter. Maybe I can get a better understanding of the situation I'm in once I see more of the area. Then I can plan an escape.

She stares at me in disgust. "Seriously?" she asks. I nod. "Ugh! No one prepared me for this!" she complains, frustrated, already dropping her mask of formality. "Isn't there some pot you can use?" I shake my head, hoping she'll let me out, if only for a few minutes.

A guard from the doorway clears his throat. "Miss?" The girl hesitates, then turns around.

"What?"

"I can go get something," he rumbles. She sighs.

"Go, then." Bitter disappointment fills me up as the Mog guard walks away. I turn away from my thoughts and focus on the girl instead.

I'm kind of curious as to who this girl is. She looks like she's from a family in the upper class, and was probably ordered to take care of me by Setrakus Ra. She probably also wants to kill me.

As if to prove my point, she chooses the silence as the time to turn back and shoot me a chilling look. "I can't believe we're being so kind to this Loric," she mutters under her breath. Her arms remain tightly crossed as she slowly shifts from foot to foot in the cold. Her dark brown eyes flash dangerously in the dark.

"Miss?" the guard calls from the doorway.

"It's Kelly," she calls back, exasperated. I can tell from her tone that this isn't the first time she's told them.

"Miss Kelly, here." He holds out a bucket, waiting for her approval. She nods and points to the corner of the room.

"Just put it there," she sighs, not even looking in the direction in which she's pointing.

"Yes, ma'am." he rumbles. I wonder why the other Mogs are showing her so much respect. Kelly looks almost uncomfortable with it herself.

"Well," she says, directing her thoughts towards me, "That had better be it. I wasn't even supposed to give you a bucket."

I'm not really sure what to say, so I just nod and tuck my legs in to conserve my body heat. With one last glare, she quietly shuffles across the room and exits through the small door. The guards, after taking one look around the room, close the door with a loud slam that bounces off the walls of my new prison cell.

I squeeze my legs tighter, trying not to hyperventilate. I can't panic. I have to come up with a plan. I have to escape, because I know I'm going to be tortured for information. I slowly shuffle towards the door, wincing as the chain dangling from my ankles screeches against the floor, making a sound like nails against blackboards.

I feel desperate for the first time since I woke up as I realize there's no door handle. I pound the door, and hear only hollow, metallic clangs, without any footsteps. Maybe that's a good thing. My stomach growls in hunger and I clench it in order to stop the gnawing feeling from eating me up.

I sigh and sink to the floor, leaning my head back against the freezing metal door. What would Nine do? What would Marina do? Frustrated, I look down at my small, thin, practically useless limbs, wishing I had an useful legacy.

As my mind awakens further, my thoughts return to my dreams. I shudder. As much as I hate to admit it, I know the reason why I wasn't killed is because Setrakus Ra wants me alive.

Maybe a little worse for wear, but with my heart still beating, and with my lungs still breathing.

He wants me alive, to be his heir.

**A/N: Hi, everyone! I've been super busy with projects and whatnot, and will probably continue to be, please don't be astounded if I only update every 2 weeks or so. I'm so sorry!**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :) I hope you guys are feeling the suspense! I didn't get to edit this chapter as much because I just really wanted to update since I haven't in 2 weeks. :P Sorry!**

**Does anyone remember who Kelly is? Free virtual cupcakes to anyone who can remember!**

**It would be great if any of you could participate in the poll on my profile for this story! Thanks in advance!**

**Special thanks to my awesome reviewers, favoriters, and followers! You guys have really brightened up my day!**

**Adam, you're an amazing writer and I'm so flattered that you enjoy my story!**

**Meerkat78, thanks for being so amazing and inspirational!**

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**Marina3Eight, I felt so happy after I saw your review! Thanks!**

**Paragon Eight, your reviews made my day! Thank you!**


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